


you've begun to feel like home

by patrickbrewer



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort No Hurt, Common Cold, Husbands, M/M, Sick Character, Soft!David, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 08:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrickbrewer/pseuds/patrickbrewer
Summary: “Do you feel nauseous?” David asks, shaking out of Patrick’s grip to press his hand to his forehead.It’s warm, but not horribly so. He can handle this.“No, I was just going to get some toilet paper to use for tissues. You used the rest of the box up when we watched Titanic the other day.”“Okay, I’m sorry that the sight of Jack sinking into the treacherous depths of the Atlantic Ocean brought me to tears,” David replies defensively.





	you've begun to feel like home

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Soft David actually inconveniencing himself to take care of Patrick
> 
> (title is from look after you by the fray)

It’s 3:48 am when David wakes up to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. Light spills into the room from the hallway, hitting his eyes just as he sits up to see what’s going on, and he flops back down on the bed with a groan. 

“Sorry,” a voice whispers from the doorway, followed by a sniffle. “I’m just going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”

David almost listens to the request, snuggling back into his pillow with a long sigh, but then another sniffle breaks through the silent night air, and he sits up once again. 

“Are you crying?” he asks, voice gravelly from sleep. He squints at the doorway and sees Patrick standing there, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he shivers. David springs up from the bed faster than he ever has in his life, moving over to his husband.

“No,” Patrick replies, flinging his arms out to keep David at a distance. “No, I think I just have a cold or something. My throat felt a little funny this morning but I thought it was just allergies.”

David pauses, looking down at where Patrick’s fingers are gripping his arms, and for a moment he considers backing away. It’s the same reaction his mother always used to have when she found out he was sick as a little boy. Between one blink and the next she’d be out the door, beckoning for someone else to look after him in order to avoid the onslaught of used tissues and thermometer covers. He’d grown used to it over the years, and somewhere along the way he’d picked up the habit of reacting the same way whenever he was in the same vicinity as a sick person. 

But then he remembers just a few months ago when he got food poisoning after reluctantly eating the clam chowder that Twyla offered to him on the house, and how Patrick had stayed up all night and listened to his complaints. He even sat with David on the bathroom floor and rubbed his back as he puked his guts out. It was a type of care he’d never received before, and it made all the difference.

So maybe he’s kind of determined to return the gesture. It’s always worked well for them in the past. 

“Do you feel nauseous?” David asks, shaking out of Patrick’s grip to press his hand to his forehead. 

It’s warm, but not horribly so. He can handle this.

“No, I was just going to get some toilet paper to use for tissues. You used the rest of the box up when we watched Titanic the other day.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry that the sight of Jack sinking into the treacherous depths of the Atlantic Ocean brought me to tears,” David replies defensively, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and leading him back to the bed. “Get comfortable. I’ll get the toilet paper.” 

Patrick makes a sound between amusement and surprise but doesn’t protest, lowering himself back down onto the mattress as David moves toward the bathroom. Squatting down, he opens up the cabinet under the sink and grabs two rolls, just in case. Tomorrow he’ll head to the store early and grab actual tissues to bring back before he opens. 

“Here,” he says as he re-enters the bedroom, handing over the two rolls. “I’m going to get you some Advil to get your temperature down. Do you want some tea? That should help with your throat.”

Patrick is silent for a moment before he leans over and turns on his bedside lamp, revealing the confused expression on his face. He’s still holding the two rolls of toilet paper in his hand, and he sniffles quietly before speaking.

“Are _you_ feeling okay? I feel like I should be checking your temperature too.”

David crosses his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“In all the time I’ve known you there has never been a case where you didn’t run in the opposite direction at the first sign of a contagious illness.” 

“Maybe you should focus less on _me_, and more on getting all of that snot out of your nose,” David replies, shooting him a glare that doesn’t hold any of the heat that he wants it to. It’s not like he can tell Patrick he’s wrong. 

He turns away, heading back toward the bathroom to get the Advil, and smiles as he hears Patrick call, “Tea would be nice!”

While he waits for the water to heat up, David leans against the kitchen counter and thinks about the first time he stepped foot in this place, how he had been so equally excited and terrified to take this next step with Patrick. Of course he’d been entirely wrong, but maybe it was that day that flipped a switch inside of him. 

He’s always had high standards. That’s no surprise to anyone he meets. But it wasn’t until he discovered that he wouldn’t actually be living here with Patrick that he realized how much he _wanted_ to. Because he loved hearing the excitement in Patrick’s voice as he talked about the exposed brick and the fireplace, and he loved the light in his eyes as he spun around to take it all in, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

He loves _Patrick_, for everything that he is, everything that _he_ loves, and maybe it was that day that David realized if the choice was between Patrick or his dream house, Patrick or getting a cold, Patrick or having a bigger closet, he’d pick Patrick every time. 

“I haven’t seen you this deep in thought since the time that weird guy came into the store just to give us a riddle.”

“I still haven’t figured that one out,” David replies, a smile curling on his lips as he blinks back to reality. 

Reaching over, he pulls Patrick in by the waist and presses a kiss to his cheek before tucking his face into his neck, closing his eyes, and breathing him in. 

“Thank you,” Patrick murmurs, running his fingers through David’s hair, “for taking care of me.”

_Always_, David thinks, but he can’t quite bring himself to be that sappy out loud. 

* * *

David’s alarm goes off just an hour after him and Patrick finally go back to sleep, and he feels like he just might die of exhaustion. But Patrick is curled up beside him, sound asleep, so he holds in his groans and tries to sit up as silently as possible. He’s just about the stand up when fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling gently.

“Stay,” Patrick says softly, voice coated with sleep.

David turns, a fond smile on his face as he takes in the sight of sick, sleepy Patrick, nose red and features soft. “You need tissues.”

“I need _you_,” Patrick says, his tone entirely sincere, and David practically melts on the spot. 

Without any more protest, David sinks back down beside his husband, stroking his fingers across Patrick’s cheek as he gets back under the covers. A small smile graces Patrick’s face and he shifts closer without opening his eyes, holding his arm up wordlessly. David turns and presses his back to Patrick’s chest, reveling in the warmth he provides, and together they fall back into a deep sleep. 

(And maybe David wakes up later with a scratchy throat, but with Patrick’s nose pressed against the back of his neck and his leg slung around his waist, he can’t bring himself to care.)

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me @patrickbrewcr on tumblr and twitter! 💜


End file.
